


and i fell [into a well of hope]

by 4beit



Category: Maleficent (Disney Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, mother/daughter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22340524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4beit/pseuds/4beit
Summary: “ask me,” maleficent says, her voice tight and her wings flickering in and out again as if to provide some sort of comfort.aurora takes a breath, reaching for her mother’s hand. she feels the way her mother stiffens at the contact, yet the pause is only brief before aurora finds her hand taken firmly, gently. it is encouragement in all the ways that maleficent knows when she is riled with such anxiety and gut-wrenching pain.
Relationships: Aurora & Maleficent (Disney)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 67





	and i fell [into a well of hope]

there is a night, before the coronation of queen aurora to the moors, a night where the latticework of burns across maleficent’s skin has yet to heal. it is a night of open skies, bright moonlight and the grass blushes silver-green in the wake of graceful movement. barefoot, it is aurora walking along a familiar path towards the looming shadow of the weeping willow. it’s long form hangs, leaves brushing against the slow ripple of current drifting along in the river. aurora knows that it is within the depths of this tree that her godmother, no, her mother, has taken refuge. aurora also knows that there is little chance her mother will be sleeping at this hour, recent events aside, aurora found over the years that her mother rarely requires sleep in the same way that humans do, or diaval does. 

“beastie,” comes the familiar voice from above, between the hanging branches of the willow, and aurora finds herself smiling despite the seriousness of the question she has come to ask, “is everything alright?” her mother says, and then the night is filled with the muted flutter of wings, followed by the parting of long hanging branches as maleficent emerges from the sanctuary of the tree. 

aurora can see the concern deep set in her mother’s face, knows when maleficent is searching for answers aurora is yet to give. her gaze drifts to her mother’s wings – wings so big they drag behind her as she walks, crossing the space between the shadow of the willow and where aurora has found herself unable to move. individual feathers flutter in the night breeze and aurora watches, finding herself able to revel in their beauty far more now that men of iron and anger are not aiming to kill her mother. 

“has something happened?” maleficent says, the question spoken into the night with hesitation, confusion, a preparation of anger and retribution. 

“no, nothing has happened. i’m alright.” aurora says finally, pulling her gaze back, looking up at her mother. in the moonlight the burns from the ironwork seem almost silver, their pattern etched into her mother’s skin. maleficent will not reveal it, but aurora and diaval see how much such wounds pain her. it seems that no amount of magic, moor or faerie can hurry the healing from such injuries. 

once again, aurora meets her mothers gaze and takes a breath “i-“ she starts “i wanted to ask you a question.” 

it is a betrayal of her intention aurora knows, to all but ask permission to seek further. her mother is perceptive, aware of the way aurora’s gaze drift back to her wings, the hesitation in aurora to ask. aurora isn’t sure if there’s been a time previous where she’s sought permission instead of just barrelling forward, seeking an answer. maybe, maybe it is because aurora in her heart of hearts knows the answer and thus, knows the possibility of such pain her mother experienced. in the silence between them, an expression aurora has seen before flickers in maleficent’s eyes – the look that generally follows maleficent answering a question she would really rather not. yet for aurora, for aurora she answers. 

she always answers. 

“ask me,” maleficent says, her voice tight and her wings flickering in and out again as if to provide some sort of comfort. 

aurora takes a breath, reaching for her mother’s hand. she feels the way her mother stiffens at the contact, yet the pause is only brief before aurora finds her hand taken firmly, gently, by her mothers. it is encouragement in all the ways that maleficent knows when she is riled with such anxiety and gut-wrenching pain. 

“the king,” aurora says, because he is not her father, he will never be her father “he,” she swallows hard “he took your wings, didn’t he?” 

maleficent’s entire being seems to pause, there is a stiffness that descends down her spine and the hand gripping aurora’s tightens for a moment. even her mother’s wings seem to still. the pain is palpable, even now that maleficent is reunited, it is clear that the memory lingers close. guilt swells in aurora’s stomach and it twists violently “i’m sorry,” she says “i shouldn’t-“ her own vice grief struck. 

“you have nothing to apologise for.” maleficent says, voice as thin as aurora has ever heard it, yet her mother presses on with renewed strength “you deserve to know.” she says “we met when we were young.” maleficent says “king stefan and i, although he was only an orphan then – but even then he had his eyes on the throne. i didn’t understand his desires, his greed. it was foreign to me the way he put his thirst for power, for glory, above all else. i didn’t understand it until after he,” maleficent pauses, exhales and there is the ripple of magic through her fingertips “he came back to the moors. he said he wanted to warn me that they were coming for me. that i was in danger. he fooled me, drugged me. i don’t know what he used, only that i didn’t taste it, didn’t feel the way it overpowered me. and then,” her voice wavers and aurora sees her mother’s eyes glittering with tears “then i awoke and they were gone.” 

aurora finds herself speechless, transfixed where she stands by the horror of it. 

“i found out later that because of what he did,” there is a darkness to her mothers voice now, a palpable anger “i found out later that he did what he did to get the throne. to get his glory.” 

aurora is sickened by it, feels a deep-set pain in the knowledge that one could do that to another. 

maleficent exhales and for short seconds, the depth of her pain is plain on her face. yet the moors are sleeping, and only aurora soaks it in. only aurora can see the through the mask once it slips back in place; yet her mother’s strength falters only slightly, visceral pain escaping in the trembling of her hands. it seems that only that she is unable to control. aurora responds the only way she knows how, by turning and flinging her arms around her mothers neck, careful to avoid the delicate feathers that maleficent guards carefully. 

“i’m sorry.” aurora mumbles, her voice wet. 

maleficent flutters through several emotions in quick succession – surprise at the veracity of the hug only to find herself able to relax into it, wings curling around her daughter reflexively. then, a spike of pain as the needless apology slips from aurora’s lips, her voice thick with tears. maleficent finds herself acting on instincts, hesitant all the way as her hand comes to aurora’s back “you have nothing to apologise for.” maleficent says, for this is true “what he did is not your fault.” aurora steps back, but only far enough to look up at her mother as maleficent continues “and you reunited me with them.” she reminds, wings fluttering back for half a second before encircling them again. 

“he was horrible.” aurora says firmly, a hand wiping tears from her eyes. 

“he was corrupted by his own desires.” maleficent agrees “as was i when i allowed my rage and revenge to,” she falters “to place you in harms way.” 

“i wasn’t harmed.” aurora says “and you awoke me. it was barely longer than a nights rest.” 

one of maleficent’s hands come to aurora’s, fingers brushing across the needle-prick scar, a mark aurora will bear for the rest of her days “it was wrong.” maleficent says “you were an innocent. it makes me no better than him.” 

“no,” aurora says, and maleficent is taken aback by her ferocity. she looks down and sees the fire aurora’s eyes “he was, he was corrupted and evil. he would have killed you and felt nothing but pleasure. but you, you, you care for the moors and for everyone that lives here. i’ve seen it; we all know it. you saved diaval when you could have left him to die. and, and you love me. you are better than him.” aurora speaks all of this at once, becoming breathless with her insistence. 

she is started to find that when she looks up, there are once again tears glittering in her mothers eyes and “aurora,” maleficent says, and then she stops, faltering and fighting with herself for control of rampant emotions only aurora brings out in her.

“i mean it,” aurora says, determined to destroy any thoughts in her mothers mind that she is like that king “you’re worth more than a hundred of him, a thousand.” 

silence descends as maleficent contends with her own emotions. only aurora could get away with saying such kind things, maleficent is certain she is firmly undeserving of them. yet there is a brightness in aurora’s eyes, a stubbornness too, a determination to have her words be understood as truth. 

“you see the best in me.” maleficent says at last. 

“i see the truth.” aurora counters, punctuating the sentence with a stifled yawn, a hand covering her mouth. 

“come,” maleficent says “you need to rest.” 

“what about you?” aurora asks, walking by her mother side into the sanctuary of the willow tree. 

maleficent knows that she is asking about the burns, the stark reminders of how closer to death she came only nights before “they will heal.” she says “with time.” 

“we have all of it in the world.” aurora says, climbing onto the welcoming boughs of the tree, up and up until her mother begins to weave magic between two of them, creating a bed for her there. 

maleficent settles somewhere in the branches below, adjacent “sleep well beastie.” she replies, her voice settled and familiar. 

“you too, mother.” aurora mumbles already descending towards sleep, unaware of how maleficent will spend the many hours through to the sunrise replaying that one word over and over again, 

mother. 

mother. 

_mother._

**Author's Note:**

> over the weekend, and due to the worlds crappiest washing machine i had to spend four hours in the kitchen making sure the damn thing didn't keep stopping of its own accord. during that time i also watched maleficent, and malficent: mistress of evil. needless to say, i had some Emotions about it all. this is the result. 
> 
> feel free to come shout at me on tumblr at 4beit.


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